


Festival Week

by PRFury



Category: Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Brandy - Freeform, Fireworks, Gen, corellian brandy, let's get drunk peoples, shell shock/PTSD, what even are tags?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-09
Updated: 2017-07-09
Packaged: 2018-11-29 15:46:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 835
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11444028
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PRFury/pseuds/PRFury
Summary: Some people love to celebrate The Festival of Life for a whole week with fireworksWraith, not so much





	Festival Week

Wraith always hated when they were on Coruscant during the Festival of Life week.  He didn’t hate the Republic that he fought for, not in the slightest.  Sure, he resented that the Republic treated him and his brothers as indispensable (and when Magus explained the logic behind it, it made things worse).  If anything, he was proud to be a part of a pivotal moment in the Galaxy’s history, most all the clones felt like that.  He was glad that, just over a year into the war, he and his _vod_ and _Jetii_ were still alive to fight for something.

No, he hated the fireworks that the Coruscanti fired off every year.

He was on life support fighting for his life at the beginning of the first Festival week of the war, but it permeated its way into his dreams.  He remembers bits and pieces of a terrible battle and he still can’t remember if it really happened or if it was the Dream.  Because he remembers it starting in the Arena at Geonosis and a bright flash occurs, the ground rocks beneath him, there’s hundreds of voices shouting and next thing he knows, he blinks and they’re on a wide plain that could be any number of desert planets he’s been too.  The fourth Festival night found him waking in a cold sweat, heart racing and the need to regroup with his men and get out of wherever the hell they were.  Magus found him fighting against the Kaminoans to get to the Trooper in the bed next to him and with a little Force Suggestion, calmed him down enough to sleep the rest of the week.  Wraith woke up the day after Festival week feeling cold, empty, numb and grateful to see Magus standing watch over his brothers when he couldn’t.

The second year of the war found them mercifully on the Outer Rim, elbows deep in an extraction when the Festival week began. Everything had gone exactly as planned which didn’t really surprise him.  When they’d boarded the Cruiser with the civilians, he was glad that there were only mild injuries, no fatalities and he didn’t have to empty a round into Clankers for once.  The refugees were so relieved to be out of a war zone, they began the fireworks early.  In the hangar.  Where everything echoes. _Loudly_.  A cold sweat saturated his blacks and left him shivering, or so he kept telling Fang who wouldn’t stop looking at him.  Miraculously, he didn’t revisit the Dream.  The second day of the week, Magus had gifted them with a bottle of brandy, some of her throwing knives and a dartboard that fit the whole side of a Larty.  That was the first time they’d seen just how accurate Banshee could be when he hadn’t slept in a week.  Wraith however, Lobo joked that maybe they shouldn’t let him anywhere near a blaster when he’s tired as he ducked the third knife in a row.  Wraith also learned that he quite liked Correlian Brandy, even if he’d never be able to afford another bottle.  He’d have to see if 79’s had any next time they were planetside.

The third year of the war, their Leave coincided with that year’s Festival week (he suspected the Jedi did it to keep Magus close and knew she couldn’t leave her men behind).  Where the fireworks this loud last year?  He couldn’t remember but the Dream came back.  He hadn’t dreamt the Arena in almost two years, why did the fireworks bring it back when actual mortars and grenades did nothing?!  Lobo was not in a talkative mood at all that week and Ghost looked paler than the Kaminoans did.  Fang was the only one of them who was able to move about but the work of a Medic never ends, even when they’re in the grips of Shell Shock.  Those three found busy work at the Military Base to distract themselves, cleaning and restocking their gear.

Wraith and Banshee had gone to 79’s in the hopes that they might be able to get drunk, and it seemed like the other battalions had the same idea.  Only, while they were celebrating another year of living by getting drunk, Wraith still couldn’t find anything to celebrate.  How could he celebrate when the rest of the 313th were dead?  Banshee did the pour outs, one for each squad while naming each _vod_.  Plus side about 79’s was that the clones who ran the bar turned up the volume and the bass of the music to help drown out the fireworks.  Magus and Lobo found them a few hours later gently snoozing at the table in the back corner, a very large bottle of Corellian brandy polished off between them.  They each grabbed a Trooper and made their way back to the Base just as the last of the fireworks began to die down, quietly talking about the design of the fireworks this year and imagining their own designs.

**Author's Note:**

> So the Star Wars Calendar indicates that there's a whole week of Festival celebrating. I'm in SoCal and for our 2017 Independence day, the fireworks were a little... much  
> which got me thinking about our Combat Veterans and the Clone Troopers and how there has to be some that have PTSD.  
> EDIT: So it turns out each Festival Week is for something different, I've decided it's for the Festival of Life because it sounds the most fitting for this situation.
> 
> DISCLAIMER: I am not a Medical Professional. I personally don't have PTSD, I am the daughter of someone with PTSD and have almost 30 years working knowledge of how it manifests in a few vets. I apologize if my characters don't behave exactly the way you do, PTSD shows in different ways in different people.


End file.
